


In the Eyes of the Immortal

by ShadowBlazer



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Immortals, To You The Immortal Manga
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-05-02 23:14:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14555652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowBlazer/pseuds/ShadowBlazer
Summary: Severa keeps her mother's dying wish to find and protect a girl named Lucina--someone her mother once knew. When she finds her, Severa realizes that protecting her is not the only reason why she wants to stay by her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story from The Salt in Our Scars series of which a couple of readers have asked if there is a sequel. I had a few ideas for this story, so I thought I would continue it. This chapter has been slightly modified with a few more details for more description in some areas. This is heavily inspired by the manga _To You, The Immortal_ , and I would recommend it with the caution that it has a habit of breaking hearts. Usual disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem Awakening, its characters, and _To You, The Immortal_. 
> 
> I am currently working on my other story The Dying of the Light as well, and thought that this would be a good way to get back into writing.
> 
> Enjoy!

Severa buries Cordelia beneath the elder tree in their hometown before leaving later that night.

She slips out with the moonlight bright overhead, having cleared out the remnants of her house into a knapsack full of her keepsakes and tools. At her side sits a blade that her mother crafted, a beauty of steel with its hilt engraved with the name of Severa's late father for protection. Cordelia's name joins it shortly, crooked letters carved into the metal with her mother's equipment, and Severa nearly retches from a wave of sorrow at the letters. She wishes she'd inherit some of Cordelia's skill if only to remember her more.

When the house with its wooden walls is silent and empty, Severa leaves a note for the other villagers to find in the morning before closing the door to her home for the last time. She makes it out into the surrounding hills without being spotted, the daffodils at the side of her path waving in her wake as if saying goodbye. Severa climbs up into the brush and disappears out of sight from anyone watching from the village, her mother's last request on a piece of parchment in her pocket. The words almost seem to burn through to her skin.

Severa follows the road as per her mother's instructions on the parchment. The actual words Cordelia spoke on the day she died was little, having been replaced by chills and sweats, violent shaking that had her clawing at Severa's shirt while the latter shouts and hold her down on a bed, eyes stinging. When at last Cordelia settled down, she closed her eyes, and it was only a long time later with Severa waiting that she realized her mother would not open them again. She buried her the next day.

The land shifts and changes as she passes through it from plains and hills to mountains with thick trees with broad, orange leaves and strange sounds from animals Severa did not want to meet at night. Every morning, Severa takes out her mother's last words to her and studies it, staring as if those few sentences could bring her mother back to life. Something sour and bitter rises in Severa's throat at the written request to find and protect a girl that Cordelia once knew, like Severa didn't have her own life and yet her mother was still commanding her from beyond the grave. But every time Severa takes out the parchment, she carefully rolls it up and tucks it back into her pocket before continuing on her journey anyway.

In the towns she passed, places of loud merchants and blacksmiths banging on glowing bars of copper and steel, she asks the innkeepers if they have heard of a girl named Lucina, a girl with a silver mark in her eye and a frightening sword. The innkeepers shake their heads and direct her to another town and then another. And then another.

Severa's boots wear down, and she completes some mercenary work for coin to purchase a new leather pair. Her swordsmen partners are pleasantly surprised when they see that she can properly hold a sword and holler in awe when they spot her actually using it.

A grinning man named Gregor slaps her back, almost sending her a few steps forward. "You fight like beast! Like dog chasing after bitch in heat!"

Severa snarls, "Don't touch me!" She smacks his hand away and stomps forward to collect her reward from their leader.

Gregor frowns before a nervous, pink-haired woman whispers in his ear, and his eyes widen. "Oy! Little girl, come back! Gregor misspoke! Meant like wolf after deer for meat!"

After ignoring her fellow mercenaries, Severa buys her boots and quickly leaves the town into the forest beyond. She marks her days and routes on a map she made, noting landmarks and towns that she passes in scribbles and symbols on parchment she keeps in a belt pouch. A few times, Severa wakes up in the middle of night and clambers quickly up a tree, squinting in the darkness as something huge lumbers beneath her, the branch beneath her shaking with its steps as its ragged breathing sends pinpricks across her skin. She doesn't know what that is, and she doesn't care to find out, which is how Severa begins her habit of sleeping in trees and hidden in caves.

It's in one cave that she hears something enters in the dark of night, and Severa's hand jolts onto the dagger at her side, the cave's height preventing her from swinging her bastard sword at her back. She waits and, a moment later, a wolf steps into the light of her campfire, its fur so dark that it seems to gleam blue while its eyes shine like quicksilver. The wolf nearly fills the cave, its head larger than her own while its jaw opens slightly. 

Severa and wolf watch each other while the redhead quickly calculates her odds of surviving a fight with a beast that's nearly six feet long. The wolf tilts its head and crinkles its eyes before it turns around and exits the cave. She blocks the cave's entrance immediately with a nearby stone until she leaves in the morning.

Severa makes her way down a dirt path and looks back when she feels the hair on her nape rising. She catches the wolf following her, and Severa quickly dashes into the next town. That does nothing to dissuade the wolf, who merely pads in past the fortified wooden walls with its tongue out and its tail wagging. It might as well have been a dog.

No one else seems to be alarmed at the sight of a wild animal trailing Severa, which has the traveller concluding that either the wolf is well-known and safe or these townspeople are incredibly dense and not good at recognizing threats. The wolf continues behind Severa as she makes her way to the small inn at the centre of several dirt roads where she probes the inn-keeper for any knowledge regarding her quest.

The inn-keeper pushes up her glasses, frowning. "I have heard of something like that briefly in tales of scholars and in legends. The hero-king Marth was said to have known an immortal companion of sorts, a warrior in camaraderie." She strolls over to a large bookshelf behind her front counter where she pulls a thick-looking tome that Severa could use to crack skulls. The inn-keeper flips the book open. "Ah, how edifying. This scholar organized his findings with lucidity." She turns back to Severa, glancing warily at the wolf sitting at her side. "The person in question you are seeking is known as a shapeshifter, a god or demon that has appeared over the century in the same form but has stolen others at the height of their death." She frowns. "There has also been theories that more than one shapeshifter has been observed in these sightings."

Severa shifts while the wolf huffs. "So, wait. She steals people's forms? What does that mean?"

Miriel frowns and shakes her head. "It is most likely the exaggeration of a man who has indulged himself in mythos. Still, there is a great correlation with whom you search for and many recorded premature deaths. Is it truly wise to continue your pursuit?"

Severa shrugs. "I have a promise to keep." She turns on her heels and walks away while the wolf glances at Miriel before getting up to follow Severa.

When the wolf doesn't eat her by the third day, Severa tentatively concludes that it must have been tamed at some point in its life. It begins settling down at the edge of her camp, just beyond the light of the fire and sleeping while Severa spends a few nights awake to make sure that she's not on its intended dinner plan. After a week or so, the wolf creeps steadily closer each night until it bumps its head impatiently under Severa's hand as the latter gets ready to sleep in her bedroll. Severa gives in and scratches it behind the ears while the wolf grins with its tongue lolling out. It sleeps by her side for the rest of the night, and Severa studies it, noting the shorter ears and larger, rounder head than she's seen on the wolves in her village. She wonders where it came from to have such thick fur. Probably somewhere far to the north, and that idea makes Severa ask herself what would drive a wolf like that down here.

When winter hits, the wolf is indispensable as it digs out moles and squirrels under the snow, chasing down hares, and even jumping into rivers to fetch fish for Severa. At night when Severa shivers in her bedroll, the wolf rubs up against her, its bushy layer of fur and warmth a relief to the chill running through the redhead. At times, when the nights are not as cold, the wolf lays its head in her lap, which disappears under its massive skull and jaw. She humours it for as long as she can handle its weight before she shoves the wolf off, who skulks away in displeasure with its ears flat against its head. Later when she gets a chance to shoot down a deer with her bow, she cuts out what she needs to eat and leaves the rest for the wolf, who tears through skin and flesh. Most days, Severa and her companion travel in silence, but as the days grow shorter and the nights ever longer, Severa finds herself making idle comments to the beast who seems to grin and laugh in gentle sounds from its chest.

It's on one particular night where the snow comes down in a blizzard and they have to huddle inside a cave that Severa decides to talk about her quest with the wolf, because trying to find this one girl in the land has been like trying to find a useful thought in Inigo's head. She could at least reason it out aloud, and maybe an idea would come to her.

The wolf nuzzles its head against her thigh as Severa runs her fingers through its fur, feeling lazy from the warmth of the nearby fire. "Affectionate, aren't you? If you could help me find that stupid girl my mother asked me to protect, that would be fantastic."

The wolf sits up and tilts its head to the side as if listening.

"You know, a girl with dark, blue hair and a silver mark in her left eye." Severa's explaining her search to an animal. She's officially hit rock bottom. "Around my age, kind of immortal according to what that inn-keeper told me. Has a pretty name like Lucina?"

The wolf seems to smile. "Lushina?"

Severa blinks. She stares. "Did you...did you just talk?"

The wolf steps back, and a gust whips around it, shielding it from sight. Severa is pushed backwards, the wind whistling past her face as she turns away, holding her arms up to protect her head. When the wind dies, a girl dressed in a blue tunic with a heavy cape over her shoulders stand where the wolf was. At her belt lies a long sword with an unusual cross-guard and gold edges hidden in a plain brown scabbard, which she shifts from sight. The girl steps forward, sweeping her hair out of her eyes, a glinting in her left one like a silver brand. She grins and cocks her head to study the gaping girl, a half-lidded heat to her eyes that has Severa's heartbeat rattling oddly.

Lucina laughs, her eyeteeth glinting like fangs in the light of the fire. "I believe you were looking for me."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severa finally gets to talk to Lucina, who's not all that happy to hear about Cordelia's last request for her daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy this. Let me know if you have any comments or thoughts about it! Thanks!

Severa stares before scuttling backwards until her back hits the cave wall. "You were the damned wolf the entire time?"

Lucina frowns. "I wasn't aware that I was the target of your search."

“I was looking for a female shapeshifter! How many of you could there be?”

Lucina goes quiet. “You don't know...” She glances away. “Why were you looking for me?”

Severa takes a breath and reaches into her pouch to pull out her mother's parchment. She hesitates before handing over the sheet to the curious girl. “It was my mother's last wish that I find and protect you.”

“Your mother?” Lucina glances up sharply, ignoring the proffered parchment. She takes a few steps towards Severa, whose heartbeat rattles in her chest the closer Lucina gets. "Who are you? You look and smell so much like someone I once knew." She tilts her head. "But you're not her, are you?"

Severa swallows and straightens up. "My mother was Cordelia of the Elysian Fields. She died shortly....shortly before I met you."

“Cordelia?” A pause, and something shuffles in Lucina's expression. Her voice tightens. “Cordelia is dead?”

"You knew her?"

Lucina sinks down, gazing at the ground. She's so close that Severa could reach over to touch her. She doesn't. "We were friends during the last war against the Plegians. I met her when she was on guard duty, and she tried to arrest me at first." She smiles. It looks so sad. "We parted ways shortly after the war was won." A long pause. "How did she die?"

Severa jerks her gaze away. "She...got sick after travelling south for a particular metal for her work." She clears her throat, blinking rapidly. Carefully rolling up the parchment in her hand, she tucks it back into her pouch. "Anyway, I'm here to fulfill her last wish."

Lucina stares into the fire before dropping her eyes. “You kept your promise to your mother and found me. You can go back now.” 

“...excuse me?” Severa jumps to her feet. “In case you didn't notice, I spent months looking for you!”

“And you succeeded.” Lucina doesn't meet her gaze. “So, you can return home.”

"By the way, did you forget about the second part of her request where I'm supposed to protect you?"

Lucina traces a symbol on the ground that Severa doesn't recognize. It vaguely looks like a chalice. “I don't know what reasoning your mother had to send you after me, but I require no protection.” She pulls out a dagger from her belt and holds out her hand. Lucina slices deeply into her palm as Severa yells, and the flesh cleanly knits itself back together, skin smoothing out as if it had never been cut. "I don't die." 

Severa opens and closes her mouth. "Then, why did she ask me to come?"

Lucina avoids Severa's eyes. "I don't know. Regardless, it's not safe for you to follow me. You should—"

"Shut up!" Severa stomps, and Lucina glances up, startled. "You keep telling me to go back, but you don't even ask if there's a home to go back to! Whether you like it or not, I'm with you! I'm not some oath-breaker who goes back on their word."

Lucina snarls, leaping to her feet. "Then, you are a fool and a stubborn one at that. Did it not occur to you that there might be a reason I insist on you going home? That it is dangerous to be near me, which is why I left your mother the moment I could?"

"I don't care! You think life is going to be less dangerous just because I move away from you? I'm going to stick with you, whether you like it or not!"

Lucina tosses her head back, her eyes glinting gold in the firelight. “You want to follow me? You may try.” She morphs back into the wolf and curls herself up on the other side of the cave while Severa shivers in her bedroll. Lucina glares coldly over at Severa over her shoulder while the latter huffs and turns her back on the wolf, muttering darkly to herself that her mother should have mentioned that her target is more stubborn than hammered iron. She falls asleep, mumbling all sorts of curses and insults, and in the morning when Severa wakes, she is alone.

Lucina has gone. 

She jams her belongings into her bag and races out into bright sunlight, squinting at the glare reflecting off of the snow. To her left is a single set of tracks, the paw prints the size of her hand with the indentations of four toes and claw marks. It leads along the river towards the northern mountains, and Severa thanks the gods that it didn't snow more after Lucina left. Otherwise, Severa would have never been able to find her.

She quickly heads along the river, keeping her eyes out for marks on the trees and straining in the wilderness to hear any sound of her. It occurs to her after some thought that following an immortal, shapeshifting demon thing is not the brightest idea she has ever had. But she recalls Lucina's stricken expression when she found out Cordelia died, and Severa recognizes that there's something more to her than rumours would suggest. After two days of trekking through snow that comes up to her knees, Severa follows the track to the foot of a cliff about the size of a fortress wall—easily four or five times her height. She trembles as she scans the rock wall, which stretches out into the horizon on either side of her. At the top, a familiar-looking wolf pops its shaggy head over the ledge and tilts it, as if mocking her, challenging her to climb after it.

Severa grits her teeth and reaches for the first rock, pulling out a dagger from her pack as a makeshift pick. Lucina lies down, settling at the top as if to watch her struggle like the pitiful mortal she is.

Severa grips onto the frozen rock wall, carefully shuffling her way up the cliff with snow dusting its ledges. The patches of ice are thin beneath her fingers, and every time, she slams her dagger into a spot, Severa's heartbeat races as she watches for the ice breaking. To her surprise, it never does. The first couple of attempts has her sliding to the ground with Severa cursing loudly as she stands back up. It's not until she pulls out a weapon in the shape of a long hook that she's able to get a solid grip on the ice. Lucina watches with ears pricked forward as Severa buries the tip of the hook into the cliff's surface and hauls herself up, one step at a time. 

"Surprised?" Severa yells up at her between pants. "My mother was the village blacksmith. She travelled far to understand and make weapons that even the king would use. Even this one from far east." She jerks her head towards the hooked sword. "This was one of the last things she made. Did you know she took up blacksmithing when she came back home? Did you even care to find out?"

Lucina just looks at her.

Severa snorts and drops her gaze, wiping her face quickly against the inside of her shoulder. "Of course, you didn't. Why would you care about something like us?" She doesn't look up or speak again as she focuses on finding the right foothold for her steps. Her shoulders burn as do her forearms and calves, and Severa estimates that she's had an hour to consider that scaling up a 25 foot cliff after someone that doesn't want her to follow is the stupidest thing she's ever done, aside from that one time when she was 12 and was curious about kissing boys so she kissed Inigo.

Lucina gets up as Severa nears the top. The climber shoves her hooked sword onto the clifftop, and the redhead swears that if a wolf could look impressed, Lucina would. Her tail wags slightly as Lucina leans forward with her ears up, watching her haul herself upwards. Severa almost scoffs when she reaches her hand out to grab the ledge, and Lucina nabs Severa's sleeve in her jaws as if to help pull her up.

Severa jams the dagger in her left hand into a particularly thick patch of ice to steady herself when she feels a tiny jolt from the weapon. She pulls out the dagger to check, yanking out only the handle as Severa's foot slips, and her fingers fall backwards from the ledge. Lucina growls as she's almost dragged over the edge, and the sleeve tears and frays, the wolf hunched over and madly scrambling backwards to pull them both up. Severa looks up into Lucina's eyes, seeing a panic and a wild sorrow that has Severa's heart clenching to see it. 

"Lucina, I'm—" Severa's sleeve tears. She falls away.

Lucina shrinks away rapidly, yelping and disappearing from view as Severa stares at the cliff blurring past her, wind whipping her clothes and hair skyward as sky and earth tumble together. Time slows for her as thoughts rush through her head—the most startling in its clarity is the realization that this is how she will die. She thinks about rolling into a ball, so she won't make so much of a mess. She realizes that her mother's weapon is strapped to her back, and she doesn't want to break it by landing on it. She wonders if her mother would be disappointed that less than a year after she leaves Severa, her daughter gets herself killed—all because she wanted to prove a point to someone who doesn't care enough to stay.

Severa turns slightly and sees the ground surging towards her as if leaping up, and she has enough time to let out half a curse before she meets the snow and a massive jolt hits her entire body like an earthquake. Agony roars through her, and there's excruciating pain in her leg, ribs and head like something snapping apart deep inside. Severa bounces and hits the ground again.

She doesn't get up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severa wakes up after her fall, and nothing makes sense.

Severa wakes in agony, white-hot pain through her body like she's sinking into a bonfire. She twitches and coughs, her throat feeling like a rasp.

A hand touches her forehead, its motion gentle as a woman's voice speaks. Severa shakes her head, only to feel her stomach twisting itself at the motion.

“Rest. You were hurt pretty badly,” the woman announces as she pushes the startled girl to the bed with the efficiency of an experienced matron. “I'll get you something to eat.” 

Severa blinks, the ceiling coming into focus as she stares up into the underside of a roof lined with wooden beams and thatched with something thin and long she doesn't recognize. She turns her head slightly, and her stomach wrenches itself.

A male voice calls out, low and easy-going. “If you gotta yak, please do it in this bucket.” Something black and smelling faintly of iron is shoved near her face, and Severa rolls over, thoughts spinning as she hurls up the little she has in her stomach. When she finishes, a glass is held to her mouth, and Severa resists at first until the taste of acid lingers long enough that she drinks to clear it away. “Stubborn thing, aren't you?”

Severa croaks, her head still reeling, “Where am I?” She looks up into the face of a man with an unreadable expression and reddish-orange hair like a sunset. 

“You're in my home that I share with my wife and daughter. I plucked you off of the back of a bear. Long story,” he adds at Severa's frown. “The good news is that you're not dead. The bad news is that you're going to wish you were once you feel your injuries.”

“Injuries?” It hurts to breathe. Severa can only inhale shallowly at best. She touches her side and hisses at the swelling there. “What happened?”

The man shrugs and plops onto a nearby stool. “You tell us. Broken ribs, fractured leg, and a concussion.” He studies her before holding out a hand, which Severa gingerly takes. “Name's Gaius, by the way.”

“Severa.” She recalls her name at the very least. “I don't remember what happened. I think I was following someone.” She shifts, and pain arcs through her thigh like lightning. 

“Take it easy.” Gaius rubs his head. “With your leg, you're looking at anywhere from three to six months to heal properly.”

Six months? “I can't stay that long. I'm tracking someone. They'll be gone by then.” Severa tries to haul herself up, only gasp and sink back down when the pain halts her from rising more than an inch.

“Didja forget you have a concussion too? Who are you trying to find?”

Severa opens her mouth before closing it. She frowns. “Someone important to my mother.” She struggles for the words, which swim out of her grasp like tiny, teasing fish. “I need to find her.”

Gaius rests his chin on one hand and leans forward. “Oh? And who's her?”

Severa doesn't answer. “I need—” She rolls slightly onto her right leg, and her body jolts as she cries out. She nearly passes out from the pain. “What happened to me?”

Gaius just looks at her. “That's what we're trying to find out.”

A woman with brown hair tied into plaits comes back with a tray of thin broth and bread. She introduces herself as Sumia and lays the tray on the nightstand near Severa's bed. When she can't get up, Sumia smiles and tears the bread into pieces, sitting on the stool her husband leaves. She gently feeds Severa, who protest loudly until her ribs force her to wince. 

“It's strange,” Sumia hums, waiting for Severa to gulp down her spoonful before giving her another. “You remind me so much of a friend I used to know.” When the irritated girl finishes the broth and keeps it down, Sumia gathers the bowl and tray. “Would you happen to know her? Cordelia from the Elysian Fields?”

“I—” Severa frowns. The name touches a memory and then spirals away, the thought lost in a dull, throbbing haze with Severa feeling like she should know it but can't recall why. “I don't know. Was she a good friend of yours?”

“She was a comrade-in-arms and a sister to me. We parted ways after the war, and she went home with that eastern swordsman she met.” Sumia smiles and looks out the window. “I always wondered what did happen to her.” 

“You can go and find her after the winter is over?” Severa suggests, feeling a startling sadness well up, a grief that grips her heart. She wonders why. “If it's been a while, she'd probably be happy to see you.”

Sumia glances down, thinking. “I may. My daughter is old enough to make the trek now. Perhaps, we will once the snow clears.” She grins. “I have so many things to tell her. I hope she doesn't mind if I bring some of my knitting.”

Severa's thoughts spin. Her eyes begin to close. “I hope you find her.” She's asleep before she can hear Sumia's response. 

She drifts in and out of consciousness, voices and sensations emerging in her thoughts like a dream—a faraway, distant quality that has her questioning if the conversations she heard are real or just in her head.

One time, she hears Sumia whisper, “We're running out of food. We don't have enough for her and ourselves for the winter.”

Gaius mutters, “Well, do you want to throw her out?”

“No! We can't in her condition. She'll die for sure.” There's silence for a long moment before Sumia continues, her voice strained. “We'll have to make due somehow. Perhaps, some days, I can go without eating, and then maybe you do the same.”

Gaius' voice is gentle. “We'll find a way. We still have the ham I made in the fall. I'll get Cynthia to grab a hunch, and we'll have supper first before we think of what to do, okay?”

The voices move away, and Severa frowns. It sounds like they'll starve if she stays. 

It feels like seconds later that someone rushes into the room, footsteps a cluttered cacophony on the wooden floor. A high-pitched voice calls out, a girl's. “Dad! I brought the ham out of the shed and left it outside to grab the other stuff when a wolf came by and snatched it.”

Silence. 

Gaius' voice comes, low and tense. “A wolf? Just one?”

“Yeah, it was so weird. I've never seen a wolf that big or with silver eyes before! It looked at me like it knew me...like it was a person or something!” A sniff. “I'm so sorry, Dad. I let it take it.”

A rustle. A muffled sniffle. Maybe Gaius went to hug her. “What's important is that you're safe.” His voice is strained. “We'll make do without the ham somehow, but when your mother comes back, we have to figure out how to keep ourselves safe in case there's more of them.”

There won't be. Severa knows this, and she can't explain why. She just understands that the wolf with the silver eyes is alone and, perhaps, always would be.

She slips back into sleep for what she swears is a minute before a bang from the door echoes throughout the wooden cabin, making Severa winces as a persistent throbbing begins at the back of her head. The girl's voice rings out. “Dad! You won't believe this! I went out, and there's two hams on the porch.”

Gaius' tone is flat. “Really? Someone just left two haunches to make up for the one we lost?” 

“Look for yourself!” 

There's a shuffle and a pause. “Well, damn. Two hams. How did these get there?”

“That's not all! I also left some cheese out, and now there's two of it too!”

“We have fairies or spirits in the area?” A scrape and the chinking of dishes. There's a muffled, “Dad!” as Severa starts slipping under again. “Well, it tastes fine, so I'd say we count our blessings that we have something looking out for us.” 

Severa scoffs, because that's way too trusting and how do they know that the ham isn't poisoned or part of a trap or—

She blinks and wakes up with sunlight streaming through the window, realizing that she fell asleep. She turns, and there's a subdued throb in her ribs, the ache in her leg slightly less sharp. Her thoughts feel clearer, like a dull blade being slowly sharpened as bits and pieces of memory return like friends finally coming home.

She had been climbing for some reason, and she fell. She was following someone, and she came from somewhere from the far east upon the request of someone dear to her. It was—

The door opens, and Severa glances up, seeing Sumia pause with an armful of sausage, ham, and a green, leafy vegetable with ribbed leaves that Severa doesn't recognize. She wonders how it grew in the snow. “You're awake?”

Severa begins to nod then thinks better of it. “Where am I?”

Sumia closes the door behind her and deposits the food on a nearby table. “You're about three days east of Southtown Crossing, and your injuries look like you fell from somewhere high. My husband found you...on the back of a bear.”

“A bear?” Severa frowns. “Why was I on a bear?”

“We were asking ourselves that too.” Sumia comes over to check her temperatures and injuries. “Just rest a bit more, and my husband can tell you the story himself when he comes back.” She glances back at the cluster of food on the table, far more than anyone should have in the winter. “We've been having the strangest luck. Someone has been leaving us food for the last couple of weeks, and none of it has been spoiled or rotten. I don't know who it is, but I thank the gods that they came.” She frowns. “I wonder if it's...” 

“It's...?” Severa prompts when Sumia lapses into silence. 

Sumia starts. She shakes her head. “Nothing. This just reminds me of an old friend who used to travel with Cordelia and I. She had some interesting powers, like the ability to duplicate things she's touched.”

"Powers? Was she a mage?"

Sumia laughs, "You could say that, though I think she far exceeds your ordinary magician." She glances at Severa, and her smile drops off of her face. "How is your memory? From our talks, it sounded like parts of it was missing. Do you remember why you're here, and where you're going?"

Severa gingerly shakes her head. Sumia frowns and goes to the nightstand beside the bed and pulls out a pouch. She hands it to the staring girl. "We found this on you and thought it might be of importance. We haven't looked inside if you're worried about privacy." 

Severa takes the pouch. "I don't remember what's in it."

Sumia watches her for a few more moments before nodding. "I'll go make supper. If you would like to share what you found to get our thoughts, you're more than welcome to."

"Wait." Severa struggles to sit up. "Why are you being so kind to me? You could have left me out there to die."

Sumia shakes her head. "You look far too much like a friend I once knew for me to do that." She leaves without another word.

Severa frowns and unfolds the parchment in her hands, seeing shaky letters scrawled in red ink—a request to find and protect a girl named Lucina. The name rings something in Severa's chest, in her head, and she blinks, surprised at the moisture in her eyes upon reading the words. She wipes at them and lays down, startled by the well that seems to open up inside her, a numbness in her chest like she's been walking around with a growing hole in her heart. 

Was she supposed to find this Lucina? Who asked it of her?

Severa wishes she could remember.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severa finds out why Gaius and Sumia have been so kind to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, sorry I've disappeared for a while. I haven't been as committed to writing and posting as I used to be, due to life. Thank you for sticking with this and reading it.
> 
> This chapter was a big one, so I decided it to split it. The next chapter should be coming out shortly this week.

Severa recalls a towering man with wild, dark hair and moody eyes in her childhood. A man with quiet huffs of laughter and constant practice with his weapons—rain, sun, snow, hail. The one time Severa has ever seen him skip was the time she had slipped into the river running along the banks, and woke to the sight of her crying, soaked mother and him running up to them, white-faced. He doesn't leave her side for a week, and she was banned from the river until she was 11.

Her father was never a man of many words, but his persistent practice, his dogged determination to keep himself in the fine fighting shape drew her to him. She spent many mornings, waking up early and stumbling to the grass outside to watch her father practice anything from two-handed swords to a thin, pale staff to Severa’s favourite weapon to watch him practice: his butterfly swords.

One morning, something feels different as Severa watches him go through his form. He swings one-sided, curved blades as long as his forearm with a small cross guard that hooks upwards. They arc across his body as he whips around, slashing with one blade and blocking with the next, his balance upright and perfect in every movement.

He offers one to her, hilt first, watching as Severa spreads her small fingers across the cool metal of the wide blade. The surface is bright and reflective like Severa is looking into a still pond on a clear day. She sees the lines and flutter of her eyelashes in the steel. “These came from my homeland. They run in your blood as much as mine.”

Severa peers upwards at him, frowning and squinting as the sunlight flares behind his head. “Teach me, Daddy.”

“Of course.” He pulls the swords away, slipping them in scabbards on his belt designed to look like only one. “But when you’re a little older. For now, use this.” He hands her a hollow, reedy stick that she sniffs at. Lon’qu frowns before pulling the stick back. He twists and smashes into a nearby tree, startling Severa into yelping and falling backwards at the sudden movement. He looks back at her and holds out the stick. It’s unbroken.

“This stick shall be like your spirit—unyielding, unbreakable.” Lon’qu looks at her as Severa reaches for the weapon in his hand. “You shall never be defenceless as a daughter of mine. I will never leave you like that.”

Lon’qu breaks his promise eight years later when he dies, but he teaches her enough to survive and sell her skills.

Severa wakes from her dream of her father and blinks up at a gritty, thatched roof. She wonders where she is and how she got here.

A low, male voice sounds out, “Had a great beauty sleep?”

Severa whirls onto her side, reaching for her sword on her back. She cries and falls back down at the hot pain in her leg like lightning.

A familiar man with orange hair walks up and eyes her. “Forgot it was broken, didja? Happens.”

She grits her teeth. “Who—“

He cuts in. “I’m Gaius, my wife and daughter are Sumia and Cynthia. You have a fractured leg, broken ribs, and a concussion turned amnesia. We’ve been nursing you back to health for a month.” A corner of his lips lift at Severa’s stupefied expression. “It’s not the first time you forgot.”

He leans down and pulls out from around the nightstand a battered leather bag about the size of her torso. “Speaking of which, we were waiting for you to become more lucid to ask about this. This showed up on our doorstep shortly after you. We assumed it’s yours.”

Gaius opens the leather cords at the top and glances in, whistling. He reaches in and pulls out a pair of familiar twin blades that makes Severa’s chest ache. 

He flips her father’s butterfly swords in his hands. “Nice things. Could really hurt someone.” 

Severa lunges for the blades, which he yanks out of reach. “Give those back!” She snarls. “They’re not yours.”

“No, but you’re in no shape to use them.” He places them on the table beside him, too far away from Severa. “And they got me wondering what’s a nice girl like you doing with a set like this?”

In the kitchen, Cynthia snorts at his words.

Gaius frowns. “Maybe nice is too generous.”

Severa lunges for the swords on the table, falling out of the bed and landing hard on the floor with a thud as Gaius pushes the swords back. “Give those back!” She growls into the floor, eyes burning as she stares at the scuffed floorboards. Her fingers curl. “They were my father’s.”

Gaius goes silent. Severa heard the twinkle of metal, a cry of “Dad!” From Cynthia before she sees the silver and leather hilts of her father’s swords in front of her. “Then, you need to take better care of these. They could have broken in your fall, yeah?”

Severa snatches at them, curling an arm around them protectively to her chest while Cynthia stares and Gaius nods. She doesn’t say thank you. He doesn’t look like he expects her to.

Gaius’ tone is casual. “I once knew a man with a set like these, but his blades were longer and narrower. Good for stabbing. He also had another set with a rounded belly in the body for chopping and slicing. Yours look like those two had a baby.”

Severa grumbles, “It’s a hybrid blade that my mother made. Took her a year to figure out how to make it.”

“Oh? So, it stabs and slices?” Gaius leans forward, chin in one hand. “And how well can you use it?” Severa glares at him, and he chuckles. “Very well if that expression is anything to go by.” He straightens up and jerks his thumb over his shoulder, point through the wall behind him. “You may want to sharpen those.” He glances back down at her, frowning. He squats, and Severa instinctively pull the swords closer to hers. “Those look like they’d be too long for you.”

“Mind your own business.”

“Hey!” Cynthia snarls from the kitchen. “He’s trying to be nice to you, jerkface!”

“Unlike you!”

“Girls, no yelling at each other in the house. Do it outside.” Gaius pauses when Sumia enters the house with a quizzical look. “Or not at all.”

Sumia peels off her gloves and sighs, a spear by her side. "The food supply is dwindling, and our mysterious benefactor seems to have disappeared." She rubs a palm into one eye. “The traps are empty again. It looks like something big got into them.”

“A wolf?” Gaius offers while Sumia shakes her head. “Something smaller?”

“Bigger.”

“A bear!” Gaius slaps his knee and points at Severa. “Like the one that carried you on its back!”

What.

Sumia peers at Severa lying on the floor, clutching a set of butterfly swords to her chest. She frowns. “What is going on here?”

After a few minutes of hastily lifting Severa back into bed and ladling the remnants of ham soup into bowls for a late lunch, the family huddle around Severa’s bed with the latter still holding onto the swords. Which made eating the soup somewhat frustrating.

Gaius slurps from his spoon while Severa winces. “So, this bear. It was gigantic—eight feet long and 1,000 lbs. It looked like it could charge through the house no problem.”

Severa rolls his eyes at his melodrama. “Bears are not 1,000 lbs.”

Gaius jabs his spoon at her. “Who’s telling the story? Me or you? Now, shush.” He pauses, collecting himself. “Anyway, this bear comes over the hill through the trees, and I spot it running towards the house through the windows. I get up, strap on my daggers, and told Sumia that I was going to go fight a bear and if I got eaten, to tell Cynthia I loved her.

“Instead, the bear skids to a stop in front of our house and lies down, and we spot you, as pale as death and unconscious, on its back.” Gaius leans forward, mouth in a serious line. “I swear on my wife’s tarts that the bear looked me in the eyes, and it was begging me to save you. So, despite my wife’s and daughter’s protests, I totter out, lift you off of the bear, and the thing got up and left. In the evening, once we got you inside, we found a leather bag full of weapons and supplies that must have been yours if those butterfly swords were.” He rubs his chin, leaning over so Sumia could collect his empty bowl. “Now, I don’t know how you trained that bear, but I have never seen a wild animal do that before. Where did you and it come from?”

Severa wishes she could remember. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” Something flashes through her thoughts, and she recalls a grinning blue-black wolf with silver eyes and a girl that looked much the same. She frowns. “I’m still trying to remember.”

Cynthia crosses her arms. “How convenient that you can’t answer because of amnesia.”

Severa corrects her. “Concussion.”

“Whatever! We’re supposed to believe that you have no idea who you are or where you came and put up with your rude and condescending remarks—“

“Careful, those words sound like they have too many syllables for you,” Severa snaps.

“Girls! Be civil!” Sumia admonishes, surprised.

“See, Mom? This is what I’m talking about!” Cynthia jabs her finger in front of Severa’s face, and the redhead thinks about biting it off. “This girl has been nothing but mean and rude, and you’ve done so much to help her. I even gave up my bed, and she’s done nothing but insult me. Why are we keeping her?”

Sumia turns her head away. Her voice is quiet. “Someone saved our lives once upon a time. We are just paying forward a debt we can’t pay back.”

Cynthia opens her mouth and closes it. “What debt?”

Sumia sighs, “Not just one, but many accumulated in the war from people who hid us at the cost of their lives, who shielded us, who believed in us. Friends who left us physically and emotionally. Leaders and mentors who died to protect us.”

Severa thinks of her father, and her throat tightens. Sumia continues, staring at her hands.

“Gaius and I have many things we can never pay back to those no longer with us. We figured that if we can’t pay back our debt, we can at least pay it forward to someone who was like us once upon a time.”

Gaius nods, unusually solemn. “We met a woman with your name once on the border between Ylisse and Plegia,” he says to Severa. “She was an abbess at a convent in Rosanne, and she hid us while we were injured and tired—a bunch of blind youths thrown into a war made by old men. The Plegians came and interrogated her, but she wouldn’t give us up. They—she died in that chapel while we hid in a secret compartment behind the bookshelf. She was hardly older than we were but so much braver.” He swallows. “They did not let her go quickly, and one of our friends, Cordelia was the one who—“

Severa’s head throb. She know she should know this name.

“—ended her life when the Plegians wouldn’t. She...well, you girls don’t need to know the details, but that abbess ended up becoming canonized as a martyr by the king after the war,” Gaius remarks, dryly. Most people round these parts are aware of St. Severa—saint of young girls with strong passion and conviction.”

Severa frowns. “She’s a saint?”

Gaius, Sumia, and Cynthia exchanges incredulous glances. Gaius replies, “Yes, she’s a saint. A huge one.” He cocks his head and leans forward onto one knee, chin in his hands as he studies her. “Where are you from, little sunbird, that you don’t even know the saints?”

Severa mumbles an answer, puts her bowl on the side table, and turns over, pretending to fall asleep. The family behind her murmurs, and she listens to the slight clinks and clatters of bowls being collected. 

She wonders why she doesn’t have an answer to Gaius’ question, and when would she finally have one.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severa relearns how to walk and heal, and even meets Lucina once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I say shortly within the week? I meant next week.
> 
> Happy readings!

The day Severa first walks again, she’s relieved. Sumia bounds her to the bed for weeks, a matron with a sharp eye as she watches Severa do leg raises to keep the strength in her hips—the only exercise Sumia allows. Her memories come back in slow, frustrating streams. 

Severa totters onto her feet, legs shaking as she leans onto Sumia, Gaius, the wall, the chairs, and as a very last resort, Cynthia if she’s in touching distance. She makes a single lap around the cabin, stopping to rest every few steps before finishing the walk with a careful retreat to the bed. The family, including a disgruntled Cynthia, clap and cheer for her brief tour. 

Gaius lays his hand on her shoulder, and Severa’s too tired to shrug it off. “Proud of you, champ.”

Severa grunts and slips back underneath the sheets, her legs already aching. Later, when she gets a chance to dig through her leather bag, she finds a curved sword like a hook and a dagger hilt with a broken blade.

Gaius catches her frowning at it. “Something catch your eye?”

Severa touches the edge of the metal, a clean snap. “I made this. It was my first one that I was proud of.”

Gaius raises an eyebrow. “You do swordsmithing?”

“I was apprenticing under my mother.” Severa frowns, a memory emerging of a red-haired woman smashing a hammer onto a glowing sword on an anvil as sparks scatters. “If it snapped, it was either poorly made or it had too much strain on it.” It might explains her injuries, though Severa still can't remember why she was using it. 

He takes a look at her face and slaps her on the back, nearly sending her forward. "Enough brooding. Let's go for another walk."

Gaius chatters more for some reason now that she’s up and about, and Severa learns to tolerate him in her silence. One night around the tiny dining table, he explains how his family ended up in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. “...after the war, the king wanted to reward us. We were technically war heroes.” He and Sumia make a face. “Or so, they say. I never particularly felt good about that, since all I did was survive.” He shrugs “But they wanted to thank us, so they gave us this nifty house and the forge behind it and—“

“Hold on.” Severa puts down her bowl. “You guys have a forge?”

“Yup. Full-on blacksmith anvil and furnace with a whole bunch of metals in the back. This house used to belong to a master blacksmith who was killed defending Ylissetol, and we inherited his lands since he had no kids. Course, none of us know how to use it, so it’s wasted.” He scratches at his head. “Which is a damn shame, because our farm tools are falling apart. We might have to move by next year or head into Southtown to buy new ones if they break.”

Severa eyes the bare room, the simple beds and lack of adornment. “Steel is very expensive. Can you afford new ones?”

Gaius makes a sound in his throat and clasps his hands together. “We only need iron, but even then, I could do some hunting and trapping. Head into town and trade for some coin.”

Severa shakes her head. “The price of an iron hoe is worth more than a few rabbits.”

Gaius’ jaw tenses. “I know.” He changes the subject.

Severa spends the next few weeks getting back to being used on her feet, legs feeling weakened like a foal wobbling on its feet for the first time. When Gaius quizzes her to check her memory, Severa recalls enough to say that she had been climbing a cliff after some kind of animal. She can name the types of weapons she’s been trained in, the constellations in the sky, the name of a boy whom she was rather cross about kissing, but not much about herself. She doesn’t recall where her village is or her mother’s name, but she can move through all the steps of the sword forms her father taught her, which is a strange blessing in itself.

In the light of the early winter morning, Severa hobbles out past the front porch and breathes the sharp sting of the cold air. She closes her eyes before drawing her swords and beginning her form, setting her weight mostly on her uninjured leg. Her boots skid on the cleared section of snow that Gaius begrudgingly dug out for them, and she moves slowly, cautiously—her arms gently carving the blades through the air as she shifts her weight to maximize the force of the blow. The back of her neck tingles like there’s someone else there, and she looks around, seeing if anyone is watching her. There’s no one.

Gaius peeks his head out the door after her third form and shivers. “Damn, you’re crazy! Breakfast’s ready, by the way.” He quickly slips back inside. Severa pauses, deciding between eating and continuing. She finds herself shuffled into the tiny table inside the cabin a few minutes later. 

A rather sparse meal of lentil stew and dried meat sits in her bowl, and Severa wolfs it down, clearing it in minutes. When she finishes, she sits back and sighs, feeling a warmth in her limbs she hasn’t felt in a long time, and she realizes she needs to say something to the people who took her in.

Severa hesitates in the easy chatter of the room. She stares at the table, and her fingers clench. “Thanks.”

The family stops eating and look at her. When Severa doesn’t elaborate, Gaius clears his throat. “For what?”

“For taking care of me when I was hurt. Thanks.” Severa glances up to meet Sumia’s gaze.

Gaius snorts, “I was the one who took care of ya while you were out.” He jerks his thumb at his wife. “This one’s better at breaking things than healing them.”

Sumia coughs politely. “I did cook her food to help her recover.”

“Well, thank you both.” Severa lifts her gaze before Gaius can retort. She reluctantly meets Cynthia’s. It feels like her eyes suddenly gain a hundred pounds. “All of you. You didn’t need to do this, and—“ Her hands fold together tightly. “—I am in your debt.”

Sumia begins to wave her off. “We were only—“

“Paying it forward, I know.” Severa clenches her hands. She stares at her thighs. “But that was because you couldn’t return the favour. At least, while I’m here, let me pay off my debt.”

Sumia frowns and peers out the window. “If you want to help, you can help Cynthia check the traps near the hills.”

“What? No!” Cynthia slaps her palms onto the table. “She’s going to slow me down with all her limping.”

“At least with me, you’ll have someone to get you out of your own traps when you fall in,” Severa snaps.

Gaius calls out, “Girls! Traps first. Insults later!” He rubs his forehead. “Sumia and I will check the ones near the river. Do be careful. Something’s been messing with our traps, so if you find something, stay away. If you need us, just give a holler, and we’ll come running,” he quips, dryly. 

Which is how Severa ends up trudging through ankle-high snow with a scowling Cynthia at her side, a rusted javelin in the shorter girl’s hand.

Severa eyes her companion’s weapon. “Want me to hold that for you in case you trip?”

Cynthia snorts and strides ahead. “I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”

A few minutes later, Severa watches Cynthia stumble and throw herself back as a rabbit snare springs, the rope nearly catching the hollering girl by the ankle. She nearly skewers herself on the javelin. Severa takes a step away.

Cynthia pushes herself up and huffs. She glares. “Don’t you say a word.” She stomps off to check the traps that lead to the river while pointing somewhere closer to the hills. 

Severa snorts and makes her way over. She pushes through the snow, feeling a prickling sensation on her nape like someone is watching her. When she glances around, all she sees is bare trees and blankets of rolling snow, and the uneasiness in her stomach deepens. 

She keeps an eye out for mossy areas and bushes, and spots a trail of packed down snow with tiny tracks leading through it. Pushing aside the branches of a brush, she finds a snow hare caught in a trap, its fur speckled with white and grey with limbs the brown colour of pine bark with a thin rope around its neck. It stares at her, its nose quivering as its chest beats rapidly with its frantic breaths. Severa feels sorry for it and moves forward to break its neck when a low sound catches her attention. She cocks her head, and the prickling tightens on her nape.

She steps away from the hare and calls out to Cynthia who’s grumbling and making her way to Severa. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Cynthia frowns and looks around.

“That growling sound.” Severa stares at the curve of a ridge in front of them where the sound is coming from. She shifts her stance and pulls out her father’s blades. “It sounds like a bear.”

Cynthia laughs, “A bear? It’s still winter. It would be strange for one to wake up—“

She stares into the distance. Severa follows her gaze, her blood instantly freezing like winter raiding through her veins. 

Not more than 300 feet from them, a huge, brown animal lumbers around the ridge, fur hanging from its thin frames in matted clumps, its ribs clearly visible through its hide. Saliva drips from its jaws in frothy gushes, and there’s a look in its eyes that makes Severa and Cynthia instantly take a step back. Gashes spot its fur in bright red patches, and when its back end clears the ridge, Severa’s stomach drops to her feet. It’s larger and longer than a horse, and the rise of its back hunch is only slightly shorter than Gaius.

Cynthia swears, “Severa, don’t make a sound--”

The bear looks at them, and Severa’s heart stops.

It charges.

The bear rushes towards them, head down, ears pinned back. It shows no signs of slowing.

The girls bolt through the snow, hollering. They run haphazardly towards the river, jumping over snow bluffs and darting around trees. Cynthia is faster, even with the javelin in her hand, and she bounds ahead, calling for her mother and father even as the bear changes direction with her.

Severa feels her throat tighten as the bear rushes down Cynthia, a brown blur speeding towards the girl stumbling in the snow. She takes a breath and throws herself to the side as the bear roars past, lashing out with her blade as the animal bellows and whips back to her, a chunk of its left ear missing.

Cynthia actually pauses and looks back, and Severa would slap her if she could. “Get help! You’re faster, so—“ She ducks a swat for her head, watching its claw gorge into a tree with inch-deep gashes. She swallows. 

Severa stumbles back as the bear tears into another tree, bark exploding through the air as she covers her face. She slips backwards over a patch of ice and goes tumbling backwards into the snow as the bear rears, one huge paw swinging up, jaws frothing in fury, and Severa wonders how many times does she need to put herself in front of death before it finally catches her. Would this be it?

A dash of silver arrows through the air and into the bear. The bear arches backwards and roars as Severa unfreezes and scrambles backwards on her hands and feet. In the shoulder of massive dark fur stands an old javelin.

Cynthia plants her hands on her hips. “Hey, you stupid bear! Remember me? I’m here too.” Her legs shake. She turns and darts through the trees as the bear whips around and charges after her.

“That idiot.” Severa swears and struggles to climb to her feet, her limbs shaking so hard that she slips several times. 

The bear roars after Cynthia who jumps up to grab onto a low hanging branch before scrambling up the tree like a squirrel. The bear barrels into the tree, and Cynthia slips, nearly falling back down when she grabs onto a nearby branch barely ten feet above the bear, who stands on its hind legs, and Severa swallows. It’s nearly double her height when standing.

Cynthia catches her eye and grins weakly before her expression slips into panic as she scrabbles up the tree. The bear begins to climb, leaving dark, wide gouges in the bark. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Severa catches Gaius and Sumia rushing towards them with rusted and dull weapons that couldn’t cut a ham let alone a bear’s hide. Their faces tighten with fear, and Severa knows that they’re still too far away, struggling through the snow bank. The bear reaches up again, and Cynthia scrambles as high as she can onto a branch only as wide as Severa’s thigh. There’s nothing left for her to climb.

Severa exhales and lets out a prayer to a god—any god that can hear her, and takes a step forth, swords shaking in her hands. A movement from the corner of her eye catches her attention.

A huge blue wolf charges out of the hills towards them, silver eyes glinting like steel as it flies towards the bear, skin warping as it howls. Dark fur melts into brown fur as the wolf’s body expands--its legs, its paws, its head growing until dark eyes stare out into the bear who takes a step back.

The wolf-turned-bear huffs and stomps its paw, identical to the one in front of it, save for the fact that it looked healthy and strong with muscles rippling under its fur coat with its movements. The other bear doesn’t give it time to think.

They collide, rearing up onto their hind legs and slamming into each other with heavy swats of their paws. The bears grapple, grabbing at each other’s head with their paws as they rip into ears, faces, the fur around their jaws until bloody patches of fur litter the forest ground. Gaius and Sumia stop short of the tree, mouths gaping along with Cynthia who stares at the massive fight in front of them. Severa hobbles over, giving the bears a width berth as she hisses to them, and the family snap out of their stupor. Cynthia clambers down, and the moment her feet touch the ground, Sumia pulls her away in a tight hug from the battle.

Gaius and Severa watch the two beasts claw, strike, and bite at each other’s chests and heads, tearing out chunks of flesh and fur. The snow and trees are stained pink under the bears, who carve into each other’s bodies, flicking out sprays of red across the snow. He tenses. “You think they’re gonna turn around at some point and realize we’re easy meals?”

Severa keeps her eyes on the healthy bear, as it catches the other one across the face with a powerful blow and knocks it to the ground. Wisps of steam rise from the gashes in its hide, and the wounds close neatly as if they were never there. “No, there’s something different about one of the bears.” Besides all the other strange things.

The wolf-bear pins its opponent down, jaws on its throat as the beast thrashes under it. It lets out an awful keening moan as it claws at hide, ears, and head, but the movements grow weaker, pitiful. Its limbs curl up in one tense moment before dropping to the ground, and the other bear lets go only after a minute of stillness. The mangled animal doesn’t get up again.

The remaining bear staggers to its feet, takes a few steps, and falls. A strange gust of wind whips around it, blowing snow into Severa’s and Cynthia’s faces as they bring their arms up. When the wind dies, a girl in a blue cape kneels in place of the bear, grimace on her face as if in great pain. 

Severa steps forward, something clicking together in her memory at the elegant sword by her side, the glint of silver in her eye. “Lucina?”

Lucina freezes before looking up, still hunched over. “Severa. I’m glad you’re safe.” She glances at Severa’s leg and looks away. “I’m glad you’re unharmed.” Her voice wavers.

Severa hesitates, about to move towards her. “I—“

“Lucina?” Sumia approaches her, amazement on her face. “So, that was you who left us all that food. Why are you here?”

Lucina glances down, expression strained. “I was the one who brought Severa here. She’s—“

“Cordelia’s daughter, and Cordelia is gone,” Sumia finishes, softly while Lucina flinches. There’s something glassy in her eyes, a wet sheen. “I knew it. I knew all along that Cordelia would never leave her little girl all alone in the world. Not unless she had to.” 

Severa’s chest clenches, a memory of her mother shaking and wet with sweat as she grabs onto Severa’s shirt. Cordelia collapsed after stepping away from her forge, and Severa rushed her to bed, calling on Libra, the town’s barber-surgeon. No one suspected that her mother would never leave that bed again.

Severa heard someone ask something as if from far away. She shakes her head to clear her thoughts. “What?”

“—ina, can you turn into her?” Sumia stares at Lucina with something undefinable in her eyes.

“What do you mean?” Severa glances at the dark-haired girl whose jaw tighten. “Turn into her?”

“Nothing consequential.” Lucina turns her face away. She shoots a sharp glance at Sumia. “Not when the burning question is—“

“How did she—“ Sumia pauses, question caught in her throat. She looks like she’s choking. Gaius curls an arm around his wife and finishes for her. He asks, “What she’s asking is how did Cordelia die?”

Severa’s throat tightens. She can’t speak until she feels a warm squeeze of her hand, and she glances over to see Lucina who looks away. Under the family’s curious gazes at their hands, Severa clears her throat. “She died for me.” Her voice cracks. She goes on. “She wanted to make me a special type of sword for my birthday, and went south to the volcanic beaches to get a particular material. She was bitten by a bug or something like that, and she—she came home, finished it, and died two days later.”

Severa wipes at her eyes. “And all because of a stupid sword. All because I wanted one like my father’s.”

Lucina’s voice is soft, surprising. “Cordelia never meant to leave you forever. She’s not the kind of person who would.” When Severa looks up, Lucina meets her gaze. “Your mother was many things but never a fool. Had she known the cost of her gift, she would have never made the journey.”

She lets go and turns her head away as if she’s afraid she spoke too much. “I know your mother, Severa. Please believe me when I say that she would never have abandoned like this if she knew how it would turn out.

“I know that!” Severa wipes at her eyes. “I know she’s perfect and amazing, and she knew everything except not to go to—“ She chokes as a sob ruptures through her body, her heart clenching like a fist is squeezing it. Lucina quickly turns and pulls Severa into a hug, nuzzling against her hair, and Severa leans into it. She feels a pair of arms at her back, and turns to see Cynthia holding onto her with tears of her own.

“I thought you were just a jerk. I didn’t know,” Cynthia mutters. “I’m sorry.” 

She’s joined by Gaius and Sumia, who gather around, and Severa can’t even remark about how melodramatic all of this is because she doesn’t remember the last time she had a hug. When they let go, Gaius guides Severa and Cynthia back to the cabin to check them over while Sumia stays behind to talk with Lucina. When Severa looks back over her shoulder, she sees Sumia shaking her head reverently while Lucina pulls her friend in for a hug. 

Inside, Gaius checks Severa’s leg and pronounces her dumb but unharmed before looking over his daughter. He shakes his head. “Why’d you decide to go up a tree?”

Cynthia huddles around a mug of tea--a herbal concoction that her father dried in the summer. She reddens and whispers, “I forgot bears could climb.” 

Gaius sighs and taps her chest. “Good thing you have a big heart to make up for your head.” He turns to Severa who sits at the table with her bastard sword in her hands, staring blankly at it. She pulled it from her leather bag before sitting down. Gaius’ tone goes soft. “Was that the last sword Cordelia made?”

Severa nods and hesitates when Gaius reaches out a hand for it. He softens his tone. “I’m going to give it back to you right away when I finish looking at it.”

Severa pauses before slowly handing it over, watching as Gaius unsheathes the sword and swear in surprise at the black edges running along the steel blade. She mutters, “It’s some kind of obsidian mix.” 

Gaius reaches out to touch the edge, and Severa slaps his hand away. “Don’t,” she says. “It’ll cut right through to the bone.”

He whistles in awe. “That sharp, eh? I’m not surprised with Cordelia’s work. What kind of steel is this? I’ve never seen anything like this.” He peers at the intricate pattern that gleam along the blade like a serpent.

Severa shrugs. “I didn’t get a chance to ask her. She said she picked up the steel work from the East. ”

Cynthia glances between them and drains her tea. She gets up. “Okay, I’m going to see if Mom needs help or anything.” She slips out the front door before anyone can say a word.

Gaius hums and taps his fingers along the table. “So, what happened to your father?”

Severa shakes her head. 

He folds his long arms across his chest. “Lon’qu’s gone too, huh?” He gazes out the window on the adjacent wall, the dying sunlight casting a faded look to his features. He looks older, sadder. “I got some stories about your parents to share that you might wanna hear.”

To her own surprise, Severa does, and she learns about the reputations her parents build that she never knew about—how Lon’qu became known as the man who never needed to strike twice in a fight and Cordelia’s nickname in battle was “the God of the Spear.” Gaius, in turn, asks about her memories of them, what they were like, what they taught her.

Gaius plunks his chin into his palm as Severa describes the form she used earlier in the morning. “I thought that fighting style looked familiar. What did Lon’qu call it?”

“Black Tiger style,” Severa mutters. The name was always embarrassing.

“A little tiger,” Gaius mutters, studying her. He smiles. “Aggressive, powerful, and direct. Fits Lon’qu well.” He tilts his head. “You might need something else though.”

Severa bristles. “What do you mean?”

Gaius gets up and pats her on the shoulder. “Settle down. Just saying that what worked for your father may not always work for you.” He pauses just before heading out the door. “Since you’re traveling, you may want to swing by your pop’s homelands to check it out. You said Cordelia went into the jungles down south for that material? Might be true, but she wouldn’t be able to make that kind of sword without some time in the East.” He shrugs. “Could have some answers for you.”

Gaius rises and makes to leave out the door. He turns back just before the threshold. “Let me tell you one thing: just because you lost one family doesn’t mean you can’t rebuild one again.”

He leaves, and Severa scoffs. She gets herself to bed, falling asleep nearly the moment she climbs in. In the middle of the night, Severa wakes, hearing something low and keening at the edge of her hearing. She slowly gets up, bringing the bastard sword with her as she creeps to the door, Gaius’ snoring and Cynthia’s sleepy murmurs muted in the background. Tensing, she hears whispers behind the wood, and slowly pushes it open. 

On the porch, bathed in moonlight, sits Sumia with her face in her hands, a familiar blue wolf beside her, and a single red candle between them--a vigil in the darkness of the night, a wake. Severa stiffens, hearing Sumia’s muffled sobs, and she knows who it is she’s crying for. Lucina presses up against Sumia who pulls her into a hug, burying her face into the thick fur. In the light of the fire, Lucina’s eyes gleam like burnished coin, and she blinks, tears gathering like molten silver.

Severa shuts the door, and sneaks back to sleep. She knows she saw something that isn’t meant for her.

In the morning, Lucina disappears again, and when pressed, Sumia only shakes her head. She and Gaius go to examine the strange bear carcass, concluding that the animal is sick and burning it with what little dry brush they could find. They even burn the hare Severa found before, which had died in the snare. Gaius and Sumia want to take no chances, especially since there’s been no animal they find over the winter that quite looks like the bear with saggy hides and frothing at the mouth. It makes the strange case of the bear even odder.

Lucina doesn’t come back, and Severa learns not to press Sumia or Gaius who either don’t answer or shrug. Food mysteriously appears again once in a while but there's no sign of the wolf. She keeps a watch out the window for a glimpse of blue-black fur but when she sees nothing, she goes on with her days anyway. 

Winter melts into spring as the snow melts away, and Severa can nearly walk, run, and climb as well as she used to before her fall. Gaius carves her a makeshift cane carved out of a fallen oak branch, and she leans on it on her trek toward the forge at the back of the house. 

The forge is in disarray. A layer of snow coats the ground and the black anvils sitting on huge stumps. Other than that, the place is clean and well-stocked, built out of solid logs with gaps between them to let steam and smoke out. Severa approaches the table near the middle and puts down a large bundle wrapped in cloth, unwrapping it to reveal Sumia's javelins and Gaius' daggers. She told the pair that she was going to improve their weapons, and after a moment's thought, they handed them to her without further question. Severa's embarrassed by it all, and rushes out the door to get started on the weapons.

She’s relieved that she doesn’t need to change the geometry or temper of the weapons, so she searches for a grindstone or whetstone. At the back, there are containers of sword oil that makes Severa sigh in gratitude. The rust is repairable on Gaius’ daggers with the stones she finds in the back, but she mentally chides him for letting rust happen, especially as a former soldier. 

She picks up a whetstone and seats herself at a worktable. The motion of moving blade against the stone is familiar and comforting, and Severa spends several days grinding away each speck of rust. Luckily, their farm supplies only needed the same treatment, and Severa whiles away her last week at the forge in the back. The day she leaves, she bundles them up with a leather cloth and makes her way to the front of the cabin, bright grass beneath her feet and the warmth of sunshine at her back.

Gaius, Sumia, and Cynthia wait for her at the front of the house. Severa swallows at the sight of them before she straightens up and approaches them, handing them their weapons and tools.

Sumia holds her sharpened spear tip to the light in awe, admiring the gleam of bright steel. Gaius hums on approval at his reforged daggers, running a finger lightly along a curved edge.

Severa crosses her arms and looks away. “I’m not my mother, but I can at least do something.”

She turns to meet Cynthia’s gaze and gives a fraction of a nod. Cynthia holds a hand, and when Severa leans in to take it, Cynthia yanks her into a hug. Severa yelps. Her ribs still hurt.

“I don’t get you,” Cynthia huffs, “but I get that you’re brave and stupid like me and you’ve got some epic journey ahead of you and—“ She takes a breath and steps away. “What I’m saying is that I’ll miss you.”

“You idiot,” Severa huffs. She turns her face away. “I’ll miss you too.” She lets go and turns into Sumia, who wraps her into a more tender hug. 

Sumia leans her forehead against Severa’s. “If you ever need another home, even for just a night, you have a place with us.”

Severa’s throat tightens. She nods and steps away while the older woman smiles and lets her go.

Gaius claps her on the shoulder. His face has an odd expression before he shakes his head. “I know you expect me to say that your parents would be proud of you, and they would be. But you have your own journey, little sunbird, your own flight to take. Your own adventures.” He steps back. “Come back and tell us about them one day.”

“I will,” Severa promises before she abruptly says goodbye and strides away. She blinks at the burning in her eyes and takes a deep breath as she walks along the river and deeper into the trees. At the edge of the forest, now brimming with green leaves, she turns and sees the family still there. They wave. Severa hesitates before waving back and quickly disappearing into the brush. 

She crosses into the forest, only leaning slightly on her walking stick. Severa takes her time as she looks up at the sheer blue colour of the sky and pauses to listen to chirps and twitters of songbirds in spring. After about an hour, she finds a makeshift road that leads east, and Severa follows it. A little ways down the path, she finds a wolf of blue-black fur skulking on the side of the road.

She and the wolf stare at each other. Severa clears her throat. “You let me fall off of a cliff.”

The wolf flattens its ears as Severa walks past, dropping its head. She moves a little ways down the road before turning around and arching an eyebrow. “Are you coming?”

The wolf tilts its head in confusion. It moves forward to meet her stride when Severa spins around, drops to one knee, and yank the yelping animal into a hug. She pulls tightly, feeling the warmth of the wolf beneath her, the tickle of its ruff on her cheek. She sits back on her heels and gazes on the wolf, who meets her eyes. Its tail wags slightly. “I’m going to my father’s homelands. Will you come with me?”

Lucina responds with a yip and bowling over Severa with a very aggressive nuzzle. 

"Okay, geez. Get off. Invalid here," Severa grumbles as she pushes herself onto her feet. She climbs ahead up a hill with Lucina at her heels, eyes bright and ears alert for anything in the forest. At the top of the hill, she looks out onto a massive canopy of green stretching out as far as the eye can see, and at the edge of the lands, a series of short mountains jut up. Beyond that is the jungle where her mother contracted the illness that killed her. Severa inhales sharply before she nods to herself and takes a step towards the mountains. 

She and Lucina head east.


End file.
